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calling homeSometimes when it's really dark and I'm lying in my bed alone — even when it's not just me — I see these little lights. I don't know if it's dreaming or not, but it's the prettiest thing you could ever see that's not the face of someone you love; all colors sometimes they are, winking on and off, and they just make me feel so much better.
I see them when I cry from time to time. I still cry. He says I can do it all I want, he teases me and it makes me think maybe I shouldn't, I should be grown up even though nobody ever treated me grown up and it's awfully hard to be something nobody ever said you could be, but he says he likes it, that it shows I'm sweet. I wish I didn't want to do it so often. But it hurts. Everything hurts even when it's wonderful, maybe especially then. And isn't it lovely then? I don't feel alone when they're around me, all those lights.
Your Insignificant GoddessHe curled himself loosely, soft legs and loose arms, against the wall like a prawn on a plate. He kept his lashes low, his face turned away from me, only moving to write and place the slate in front of my knees.
I'VE DONE MY TIME.
"I know, sweetie." I crouched beside him, reaching out to take his shoulder and then thinking better of it. I kept forgetting that he was younger than me, younger by several years. Sometimes, though, it was all too apparent. He was cold and firm, but there was so much simplicity in the smoothness of his face and limbs, this body like mine that time hadn't carved idiosyncracies into yet, his face like a brush painting the way I'd imagined it: uncomplicated, clean, fresh. "And you've done it better than I could ever have done."
I DON'T WANT TO GO BACK. I'M TIRED OF BEING HIS DOG.
"You won't be forever," I whispered. The threat of tears squeezed the backs of my eyeballs. This blessing, this cursed blessing. He was so real, so good, and now it too was real, what
Sweetest Silent SongHe sits in the window that shows the view most like Heaven with an empty book in his lap, stroking it like an inconsolable child. Silent.
I have never had the words to comfort or express. My language has always been that of clashing spears and cold hard coordinates; I can mimic the masters of pathos when it serves me well, but when it comes to speaking my own true emotions I am as dumb as the butt of a spear. Any elegance I may have, I learned from him.
Once I had the honor of belonging to the sweetest song in Hell.
And now that voice is silenced, perhaps forever. The gash across his throat boasts itself like a second mouth mocking the uselessness of the first. The memory of seeing him take it will forever drown out the rest of the battle; the blood of the one who inflicted it has long been washed from my hands into oblivion, but the consequences remain.
His pen is just as silent now. He no longer writes, for with no ability to reproduce the music or narrate he composes all j
At Night, The River"Enjoying the night, Mordecai?"
The child looked up and smiled as Silvia settled next to her, interrupting the song he had been murmuring while sitting on the bench overlooking the river, kicking his booted feet. His teeth were very white and sharp, his eyes were a deep purple, and his hair was fair. He could have been anywhere from twelve to fifteen, and neither.
He was one of the few creatures Silvia Marsh feared.
"Where's your Ezra?"
"Duke Riesgraf-Carleton is at home taking his rest, as if you didn't know," said Silvia, more stiffly than she had intended. "I'm alone tonight."
Mordecai snuggled into her leather-clad shoulder, wrapping a little white hand around her bicep. Despite the thick coat between them, Silvia shivered at the chill of his skin. "I could warm you up."
"I don't think so. I'm here for information, not your sick idea of playtime."
He pouted, all sugar. "You hate me, don't you? Silvia, you know I think you're pretty. You remind me of a girl I killed in Prague. Just
Grimm Beginnings: PREVIEW
Kitty opens the meeting with cookies.
As we chomp away, she outlines the plan for today. Apparently there's an amusement park in the area that's had more than its share of bizarre and dangerous accidents recently, and we're going to investigate, hopefully solving the problem. Fairly straightforward to most of us, but old 5 looks about ready to puke. I resolve to take him aside and share a few pointers, even though I'm not the best pep-talker. Better me than Stun, though on my first mission I naturally went to my best friend for advice, and guess what he told me? "Don't die." With advice like that, who needs chronic depression?
Anyway, the idea is that Frostie will take him under her wing (I couldn't have picked better; Frostie has the chops to keep him safe and calm), Kitty and Stun will draw the People or whatever the place has into the open. I'll join Kitty in diplomatic dealing, and if that doesn't work, the rest of the team will be
Fallen IrrecoverableI dislike attending balls. The pretended languor of the men who seem to have spent the last half of an hour in front of their mirrors practicing their jaded expressions repels me, and I cannot love the ladies who preen and flutter and sharpen their files of tongues on the bones of every one who passes before turning the buffing side to polish up friends and enemies alike. Not even our fair city's favorite, the masquerade, can captivate me; there the artifice so apparent and stifling in other gatherings of the like is only externalized and treated as a clever trick.
Solitude in the workshop or the library comforts me far more. There I am alone with no one to expect anything from me no witty words of which I have none, no sympathy or empathy of which I cannot express, only the wood and the knife under my hands shaping themselves into gentle and undemanding shapes, beauty existing for beauty's sake and no one else's; silence, acceptance, peace.
Tonight we have been invited. I must
Etzel and the ColossusEtzel von Gerhart scrambled over the rubble of a fallen wall, surveyed the carnage before him, and groaned.
This was the third straight night of fighting. Put a battalion of demons and the warriors they were bound to in front of a guerrilla band of very, very angry warlocks, and things were bound to get ugly bloody quick. But then, apparently, they kept on getting bloody. Lengthily. Etzel ducked as a magical explosion detonated and something fleshy flew over his head.
None of the nastiness and mess really had an impact on his role here, though. Etzel folded his arms and wiped the splatters fastidiously from his face with his favorite handkerchief black, so that the stains didn't show. All he really had to do was find a certain item, get it and bring it back to his employer though killing as many opposing warlocks as possible would be a bonus.
Well, then. Where to find this sunstone. He tucked his kerchief away and dusted his hands off theatrically, then for good measure t
Stahl-Legion: Night TerrorsIt is several months since the first maschine became part of him, and still Lars wakes screaming in the night.
Lotte mocks him often for it; she mimics his ranting and frantic gasps for breath, and the others pretend they don't find it funny most of the time. He doesn't try to tell her what he sees any more, or any of them most of the time. He doesn't try to describe the visions that scald the interior of his skull: the great beasts that are neither angel nor demon, but abominations wondrous and hideous in their inhumanity. Gaping mouths, innumerable eyes, an arm for every feather and a wing for every scale, huge as skies and small as breaths. They do not speak to him, but they tell him what the universe is made of, and when he wakes he doesn't remember a thing except the fear.
These are nothing new. They came before the metal sank its many little fangs into his left arm, his throat, his jaw. None of the little unpleasantries, as Doktor Herzmann calls them, came after the augmen
Stahl-Legion: Secret WingsEver since she can remember, Magda has been sure that everyone has secret wings that no one can see. She can feel hers. Invisible and airy, they make themselves known by the lightness of their absence. They belong there.
The others all have theirs, too. Lars' are of old tin, balsawood and ball-bearings; small, rickety and broken, just like him, with sharp edges that can spring out and slice unwary hands deeply at the slightest provocation. Lotte's are phoenix wings: big, blinding and burning anyone who comes near, sending rolls of thunder up to the heavens every time they strike the ground. Erik's are shining silver and shards of mirrors, dazzling but dangerously smashed up and undependable. Hans' are elegantly biological, like the Italian Da Vinci's wooden gliders but living breathing parchment, and Graham's are heavy, impressive things that hint at the raw power that drive them; commanding dragon's wings. Doktor Herzmann... he keeps his hidden well, but surely they are bon
BBC!Moriarty x reader (BM challenge)
185. Reality leaves a horrible taste sometimes
"He's a psychopath who was only using you! Can't you see that? He just wanted to get to me-"
"Why does it always have to be about you, Sherlock? Why do you always have to break the girl's heart?"
"Why do you only fall for sociopaths?"
You turned away from him, but knew it was true. Attracted to the danger and the odd like Watson, but relying on emotions like nobody else surrounded you did.
"It's love, Sherlock."
"I never said it wasn't."
186. Your rumpled sheets.
Your sheets were twisted around your body, and you knew Moriarty was already gone as you woke up. Why would he stay around? You found his clothes gone as you got dressed in your bedroom, then strode down the stairs.
"I will destroy you for trying to poison me and ruin my-!"
Moriarty stopped midway from his rant as he saw you. He then gave a dismissive smile to you before frowning at his burnt pancakes he was attempting to cook.
187. One foot in the water.
Will Turner x reader (BMC)
44. Siren. (the mythological creature)
"They say there's a siren in these parts, a beautiful women whose beauty enchants any youthful spirit into going into the ocean. If anybody touches the water, they die."
Will scoffed at the pirate's story before tying a rope to another wooden post. A siren, how absurd.
"And over there's the river, follow it, and you'll get across. Watch out though, the mouth gets rather shallow, but your ship should be fine."
You gave Will a smile which he returned without hesitation. Jack had given him the task to find a route, these islands seemed to be a maze sunk deep in a haunted feeling. But you, you were absolutely hypnotizing. Everything you did, his actions would mirror as if an obsession. He wasn't so sure why, but you were gorgeous to him. Entrancing like a goddess on Earth.
"I'll show you the path, you just have to cross this river. Come on, Will Turner." You slowly pulled off your outer clothes, stepping into the water. Will was about to follow
[Drabble] America X Reader - Procrastinate "Hey Alfred. We're desperate, huh..."
"Yeah, (y/n). Pretty desperate. Want some McD's?"
"Nah, we're beyond McD's..."
"Yeah, we're pretty deep in this..."
You eyed the material you and Alfred had to cover before the finals tomorrow. The textbook alone was a ton of material. He knew it, but He slept in class all day all year, and refused to study properly before other, less major tests. In essence, he procrastinated. Your jaw dropped when he called at six p.m. saying he needed your help to study for tomorrow's test, but you nearly fainted when he showed you all the STUFF he didn't learn (and had to learn before tomorrow).
Alfred wasn't stupid. He just procrastinated a lot. Too much. Therefore, he didn't learn anything, and failed the class, despite having the capabilities to learn and probably beat out the smartest people in your classes. Alfred was just too absorbed in his dreams of goi
Lestrade x reader (BM challenge)
"So, if that guy is a zombie, he's a necromancer..."
"Alright, I can live with that." Anderson gave a nod at the nickname as he crinkled his nose slightly at the dead body which just spasmed.
"Who are you looking for?" Lestrade glanced up from the papers on his desk as you came inside.
"... You do know those kind of people don't really exist, right?"
"Ask Sherlock, he believes in him." Believes that a psycho went around poisoning people so they appeared to be dead but had spasms, of course. But Lestrade merely rubbed his temple as if a headache was coming.
"Do as you please, love."
You went around his desk to hug him before prancing off to investigate another crime scene.
-----anybody else get the Hobbit joke?
65. Gunpowder and gunshots.
It hurt, it burned. It wasn't like in movies where people could brush it off. Once the shock worn off, your body became wracked in pain from the gunshot in your stomach. Tears wet your eyes a
Turn left era (Tenth!Doctor x reader)
"You're her. You're actually her."
River gave you a wide-eyed gaze inside the Library, one you couldn't shake. Appreciation, awe, the look of a women who saw it all but was still somehow surprised.
"The doctor has a lot of companions. Trust me, I'm nobody special."
"No, you trust me. I've spent so many years with that man in his future. You are very, very special. Especially to this regeneration."
"Give me your right hand. And don't ask why."
The doctor waited for you to do as he said, and you saw his right wrist bound by a simple red band of fabric. He picked an exact copy up and tied it around yours, replacing the simple knot on his for two. As if he truly didn't want yours to fall off. He slipped a ring onto your ring finger, a simple ring with a large stone. Inside it there looked to me a whole galaxy.
You looked more closely at it, seeing that small specks of light actually moved it. You cupped it with your other hand, seeing that the li
A Little Romance A little romance never hurt. A little love never made a day darker than it could already have been. A little care, a kind smile, a hopeful glimmer was never far from her mind. She liked the thought of romance – of finding that one man who was both similar and different to her, and could see into her very being and love her still. She loved the thought of becoming acquainted with such a man, of getting to know him and perhaps, bit by bit, discovering what love could be between them.
Such thoughts had dwelled in her mind for years, it seemed, and though she never abandoned the concept of love and being loved, she had long since given up seeking the answer by asking others “what is love?” For every time she asked that question, she received very different answers. Some, the more cynical, said that love was nothing more than a feeling felt in foolish youth when one does not know how to control the wild emotions and hormones that rage within
Casper the Friendly GhostBattles raged. Blood spilt. Souls fled from their battered bodies. People cried out. Some hesitated. Others charged and took demi-god lives without a thought.
This was war.
Nico stood in it. He felt the souls as they passed into the Underworld to face judgment. He could do nothing. His mission had failed. Roman and Greek blood was pouring out. He was useless. Swords passed through his body as if he was made of mist. No one saw him. No one cared.
Everyone he knew was dying. And it was all his fault.
He looked at the burning remains of the statue of Athena. Octavian refused to listen to reason. He refused to believe a Greek. He’d slain Reyna. He’d cursed Nico as a traitor of Rome and an infiltrator for Greece. Coach had barely managed to escape with his wife.
Mrs. O’Leary, the faithful hellhound, had faced the Roman legionnaires bravely, but she could not stand against 200 united Romans. She’d faded into the ground and back to Tartarus. Nico felt despair and grief
Out of the Shadows...And Into the LightNico stood in the shadows, the cold, uncaring shadows. Light didn’t shine here. He was nothing but a shadow, transient. Fading when the light hit it. Scared to face the warmth.
There was a light. But Nico didn’t dare approach. He knew very well what that light thought of him. What they all thought of him. He heard the light curse in Greek as it stumbled through the dark. What an idiot, trying to find his way through the shadows with nothing but the fire in the palm of his hand. Didn’t he know the shadows here were too deep to be penetrated by such puny light?
Didn’t he know that the light was going to be sucked in by the dark and killed? Death followed him. Shadows and death and death and shadows. He was cold. Cold, cold, cold to the core. No light could penetrate the dark of his soul.
The one he loved the most didn’t love him back. And yet still, he’d fallen into Tartarus. He’d survived. Barely. But Nico knew it was pointless to love Percy Jac
Mi Sadica Obsecion -TrailerEn la secundaria vocaloid
Len un chico, diríamos un chico "normal" como todos
-Miku ¿escuchaste la noticia? - Luka preocupada
-Otro chico entro al bosque, y lo encontraron afuera de su casa muerto
-¿como? ya es el 5to ataque en el bosque y la policía no hace nada -alterada
-Y murió como los demás, no tenia sangre, pero tampoco heridas para el desangrado
UN CHICO MUY INTERESADO EN LAS CHICAS
Entonces ¿nos vemos hoy viernes en mi depa? - Len con voz seductora
A la mañana siguiente
-¿Estas bien? ¿te dolió? -Len mientras le acaricia la mejilla
-E-Estoy bien -mientras se aferra mas a la cobija
-Rin un placer
LEN TIENE UN SECRETO
-Len ¿Qué te pasa? -asustada
...-La acorrala con los brazos en la pared del callejón- tengo hambre
-¿Porque no vamos por una hamburguesa, aquí a la vuelta venden unas-
-Creo que no me en
O My MetropolisTear yourself from your boundaries, o my metropolis, and drift with the graceful slowness of continents to my arms. Though the others look not upon you, for you are black with smoke and sharp with the tongues of your children, I rejoice, for mine eyes have their full run of your rough and uncouth fierceness.
Come to my arms, o Manchester, and fit your city limits round my roads, your slums to my city centre. You make me desire the filth of the streets and the grey of bleak great winter skies above bleaker little lives.
Dirty me, my dear.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More